Zipper
by j.heller
Summary: Mulder watches Scully dress.


You have trouble trying to zip up your dress – that little black dress that I love so much. You can usually do it on your own, but today, it seems as if you forgot to do your morning stretches and lost that extra bit of flexibility needed to complete the job.

It's almost humorous watching you trying to shimmy left and right, thinking that a change in angles would help. It's completely breathtaking, watching the way you move and how, even with the most awkward of movements, you manage to make it look graceful.

Not being the perfect gentleman, I won't offer to help you anytime soon. We've got a dinner appointment to make at that new restaurant, recommended by Skinner of all the people in the world. They've got a steak to die for. You get to choose the type of cow you eat, where it comes from, and even the type of feed it ate – not that I'm an expert at these things. I don't think you are either, but these days you seem to be up for anything.

Though it remains unsaid, we both know something happened in you that day under the bridge. It was raining that day. The weatherman said that it would, but you insisted on packing that oversized wicker basket and spending a day in the park. You blamed the swings, or the lack thereof in this neighborhood. You wanted to feel the wind on your face. You wanted to defy gravity and try to see if you could finally make it over the pole.

Naturally, the water began to pour as soon as you put the finishing touches on your beloved picnic spread. It sprinkled lightly at first, so we sat stubbornly on the blanket, huddled close together and nibbled on the sandwiches I made. When the water decided to fall by the truckloads, you refused to leave the spread unattended while we searched for cover. You wanted to sit out in the open.

Basket in hand, we finally ran towards that bridge, the closest cover we could find. You were shivering, obviously regretting your wardrobe choice of a light sweater for the day. You inched closer to me, wanting to steal the warmth of my body.

Then you kissed me and I kissed you back. I would be a fool not to.

But then you did something completely unexpected.

You unbuckled my belt, and undid my pants just enough to get what you wanted. You began to slide down my body but I wouldn't let you. Not to make myself sound overeager in these matters, it could only take a second to get me excited, especially with you – only with you.

I pushed you to the back of the wall, almost tripping over that wicket basket you love so much, and pushed away the material from the skirt you decided to wear. Looking back, it seems as if you chose to wear a skirt that day for that very purpose. I don't even remember if you were wearing underwear.

Your leg instinctively wrapped around my torso and we fell into sync quite easily. No one's around, you whisper into my ear, almost disappointedly. Yes, no one was around to see, but I'm sure someone must have heard your scream when you came.

I watch you continue to maneuver around and I don't think I can take it anymore. For some reason, thinking about sex has made me hungry, not horny, and if we don't hurry, I think we're going to miss that reservation. I offer to help you conquer that stubborn zipper and you agree. You mention that you can usually do it yourself, trying to make a point that's been made a hundred times before.

You're self-sufficient, I know. But I'm not and you know this. You know that somewhere along the path we traveled, I became dependent on you, but you don't mind. You thank me for my services and glance at the clock. Now you chastise me for letting you waste so much time getting ready. Skinner gave you a bite of his leftovers from this place one day so you know what to expect.

Let's go, you say as you put on your coat. I open the door for you and my hand falls onto the small of your back, like it's done a million times before. We stop at the elevator door, waiting for that metal box to come and you take this time to check my outfit. You nod your head in satisfaction but then you suddenly laugh.

I'm confused because I never try to be unintentionally funny. Your hands reach for my zipper and I'm thinking that you couldn't possibly want to have a repeat performance of the park now. However, instead of zipping down, you zip up and I'm slightly ashamed.

I spent so much time fascinating myself with your zipper problems, I forget my own.


End file.
